


Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

by Spiderlass



Series: Tales From Duckburg! [2]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: ADHD Character, Ableism, Autistic Character, Coming Out, Drake's parents are not good people, Emotional Abuse, Getting Together, I wrote this over a total of six hours HOW, M/M, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, and that's not even getting into the vampire part!, autistic Drake, autistic/adhd Launchpad, trans male drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlass/pseuds/Spiderlass
Summary: It's telling that the vampire attack was the one of the least dramatic parts of the party.





	Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Launchpad bit back a sigh as he politely excused himself from the conversation with several older ladies he’d been roped into, loosening his bow-tie a little.

“Wonder if Mr. McDee would let me go hang out in the den with Della, Donald, and the kids...” he murmured, craning his neck to see if he could spot his employer over the din of people. Unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t watching where he was going, and he quickly ran right into someone, knocking them right over.

“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry- wait, _ Drake?” _

“Launchpad?” Drake asked, seeming as shocked as Launchpad felt. “What, what are you doing here?”

It took Launchpad a moment to realize that he’d asked him a question, his mind too occupied with how good Drake looked in a tux. He cleared his throat, willing himself not to blush as he extended a hand to help him up.

“Uh, well, Mr. McDee likes to have his employees at his parties. I think Mrs. B’s somewhere around here too. You look really nice, by the way!”

Drake blinked as he got to his feet, eyes widening as he turned a bit red. He glanced away, a shy smile on his face as he tugged on his collar.

“Th-Thanks, uh, fabric’s a little weird, though. You- you look nice too.”

Launchpad beamed, then paused, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Wait. Why are _ you _here? You’re not an employee of McDuck Industries, right?”

Drake flinched, shifting his gaze around a bit.

“Uh, well, no, I... um... well-!”

“Drakey! Oh, there you are, darling!”

Drake’s entire body seemed to cringe as a pair of well-dressed middle-aged ducks came up on either side of him, the brunette woman in a red dress with way too much jewelry on putting her hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh, we were so worried, sweetheart! You know you can’t just wander off like that!”

“I wasn’t-!”

“Now, now, Collette, no harm done. Just eh, stay where we can see you next time, huh, champ?”

Drake opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it, instead letting out a sigh.

“Of course.”

Launchpad frowned, then cleared his throat pointedly.

“Uh, Drake? You mind introducing me?”

“Huh? Oh!” Drake’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he gestured at him. “Uh, this is Launchpad McQuack. LP, these are... these are my parents.”

Launchpad blinked, eyebrows rising in surprise. 

“Oh. Oh! Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Mallard.”

_ “Senator _Mallard, actually,” Drake’s father corrected smoothly as he held out a hand for Launchpad to shake. “Senator Gadwall Mallard, wonderful to meet a constituent.”

Launchpad’s eyebrows rose even further, and he looked at Drake in surprise.

“Wait, you mean you’re one of _ those _Mallards?”

Drake looked extremely uncomfortable, and Launchpad immediately wished he hadn’t asked.

“I-!”

“Yes indeed!” Gadwall interrupted before Drake could say anything else. “My grandfather was none other than President Saxony Mallard himself!”

“Of course, our dear little Drakey was never one for politics,” Collette added, pinching Drake’s cheek. “His big brother Muscovy was always the one with that aptitude.”

“Mom!” Drake protested when she let go of him, rubbing his cheek.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, we all know you’re just a little too... _ dramatic _for that kind of work,” Collette replied sugar-sweetly before turning her head a bit. “Oh, look, Gadwall, there’s a reporter for the Duckburg Gazette over there!”

“Ah! Well, that’s our cue, I’m afraid. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Quack.”

“Uh, _ McQuack, _actually-!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Gadwall interrupted as he looped his arm with his son’s, all but dragging him away. “Come on, champ, back into the fray for us!”

“Dad, I-!” Drake sighed, then looked over his shoulder, mouthing the word “sorry” before he disappeared back into the crowd. 

Launchpad frowned, then sighed, attempting to resume his search for his employer before abruptly being dragged into conversation with an entirely different group of older ladies. By the time he got out of that one, he was getting to the point that he was really considering just sneaking off to hang out with the non-party crowd, regardless of whether or not Mr. McDuck gave him permission.

Of course, when he saw Drake hanging out alone on the stairs, that plan went right out the window.

“There you are!” He said cheerfully as he approached his friend. Drake let out a surprised quack, looking up at him with wide eyes before relaxing.

“Oh, it’s just you, LP. Sorry, I, uh... I thought you might be my dad for a second there.”

“Nope, just me!” Launchpad replied as he took a seat next to him. “Finally managed to get away from the press, huh?”

Drake snorted, shaking his head.

“Yeah, just barely. I just... needed a minute to myself, y’know? I’m- I’m not usually the one they drag- _ take _ to these things, but my brother’s busy campaigning in New Quackmore.” 

“Campaigning?”

“He’s running for state senate,” Drake explained, letting out a sigh. “And if he wins, that’ll mean I’m the only guy in my family to never hold office. Not even school council.”

“Did you run for school council?”

“Pfft, _ no. _I was a theatre kid, and I never landed any big parts so I didn’t even get the social clout that comes with that. I’m definitely the black sheep of my family.”

Just at that moment, an actual black sheep in a white suit passed by, stopping and giving Drake a dirty look.

“Oh, uh, sorry!”

The sheep rolled their eyes, walking away without a word. Drake groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Me and my big mouth.”

Launchpad snorted, patting him on the back gently.

“There, there. Still, I can’t believe I’d never heard of you until a few months ago!”

Drake suddenly went very still.

“Oh, uh, really?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, no offense, DW, but your family’s kinda always in the news.”

Drake seemed to hesitate, wringing his hands nervously before letting out a sigh.

“Launchpad, I... the truth is, you, you probably _ did _read about me in the news a lot. I used to be in the tabloids like, all the time.”

Launchpad blinked, furrowing his brow.

“Uh, no offense, Drake, but I think I would remember if I’d heard of you.”

“Well, um, the... the thing is, you- you probably _ didn’t _ hear about _ Drake _Mallard, because...” Drake swallowed, staring down at his feet. “Because that wasn’t my name back then.”

Launchpad blinked.

“... I don’t get it.”

Drake hesitated again, then sat up straight, taking a deep breath and looking Launchpad right in the eyes.

“Launchpad, I’m trans.”

Launchpad blinked again, eyebrows rising.

“Oh. Oh!” Launchpad smiled. “Okay, cool. Thanks for telling me, DW. I’m glad you feel like you can trust me with that.”

Drake blinked, seeming a little stunned before letting out a relieved little laugh and shaking his head.

“God, why do you have to be so _ perfect?” _

“Huh?”

Drake turned a little pink, clearing his throat.

“Uh, nothing! I- hey, isn’t, isn’t that Mr. McDuck’s board of directors over there?”

“Eh? Oh, yeah, it is!” He waved at Mr. Buzzard, who immediately flinched and averted his eyes.

“Whoa, what was that about?”

“Oh, Mr. McDee told him off about the, uh, the fender bender thing. He said that ‘if ah ever see or hear about ya talkin’ to anybody like that ever again, ah’ll have ye out on yer arse faster than ya can say sufferin’ succotash, ya perfidious pile of putrid parsnips!’”

Drake stared at him for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Wh-what- what the heck was _ that _supposed to be?!”

“My Mr. McDuck impression! What, you don’t like it?”

“Pfft, L-Launchpad, you’re, you’re my best friend and all, but that is the _ worst _Scottish accent I’ve ever heard!”

Launchpad’s eyes widened, bill parting in surprise.

“I’m... I’m your best friend?” He asked softly. 

Drake stopped laughing, cheeks going a little pink as he cleared his throat.

“Well... yeah. You’re- you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had, actually. Is... is that okay?”

Launchpad beamed.

“You’re one of my best friends too, DW.”

Drake looked relieved, then smirked, nudging Launchpad’s shoulder with his own.

“Your Scottish accent still sucks, though.”

Launchpad grinned at him.

“Och, laddie, come on! Cannae ye see yer breakin’ mah wee little heart here?”

Drake burst out laughing, holding his sides.

“Stop, stop, you’re killing me!”

“Ah dinnae know wot yer talkin’ aboot, ah’m just speakin’ the way ah always do-!”

Drake suddenly let out a snort, his laughter abruptly stopping as he clapped his hands over his beak.

“... uh,” Launchpad started in his normal voice, “did- did you just-?”

“N-No!” Drake insisted, face going bright pink. 

“Really, cause it really sounds like you just-!”

“I-! I...” Drake sighed, turning his gaze back to his feet. “Please don’t laugh.”

“Are you kidding? That was awesome!”

Drake’s eyebrows rose to near comical heights.

“Wha-? R-Really?”

“Yeah! You’re... you’re really amazing, DW, you know that?”

Drake went beet red, opening and closing his beak a few times before his expression went neutral. He swallowed, angling his body towards Launchpad.

“Um... Launchpad.”

“Yeah, Drake?”

Drake fidgeted a bit, no longer meeting Launchpad’s eyes.

“I... um. There’s... there’s something I need to, to tell you.”

Launchpad blinked, confused, but gave his friend a gentle smile.

“Okay. I’m here to listen.”

Drake smiled a tiny bit at that, then swallowed again and took a deep breath.

“L... Launchpad, I-!”

“Drakey!”

Drake immediately snapped his beak shut, an annoyed look settling on his features for a second before being replaced by a somewhat insincere smile as he turned around. Collette was leaning against the bannister, a mostly-empty flute of champagne in her hand.

“There you are, darling! You really must stop wandering off, it worries me so!”

“I’m not a-!” Drake sighed, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever. Mom, you said you weren’t going to drink tonight.”

“Oh, pish-posh, sweetheart, one little flute of champagne _ hardly _counts as drinking! You should have one, might loosen you up a bit.”

Drake went utterly still, and though Launchpad couldn’t see his face, he could tell from the way his shoulders tensed that the expression on his face wasn’t a happy one.

“Mom. You _ know _why I can’t do that.”

Collette snorted, taking a sip from her flute.

“Right, right, you’re still on that whole _ sobriety _ kick, aren’t you. When _ are _ you going to let that go, dear?”

Drake cringed, and Launchpad saw him ball his fists up.

_ “Mother!” _

“Wh- don’t you _ dare _ use that tone with _ me, _young man!”

“Young- I’m _ twenty-eight!” _

Collette snorted, crossing her arms.

“And yet you still live in your father and I’s house, so you still have to follow _ our _rules! So don’t go pretending you’re all grown up now, because I don’t see any potential employers lining up to hire you!”

Drake cringed, shoulders creeping up towards his ears as he stood up. A crowd of onlookers had started forming, and ironically enough Launchpad could actually see his employer for the first time all evening.

And boy, did he look _ pissed off. _

“M-Mom, please, can- can we do this somewhere else?”

“Oh, so _ now _ you don’t want to do this in front of your little friend? That’s the way it always is with you, isn’t it? Always me, me, me! _ I _ need special accommodations, _ I _ need all your attention, _ I _need ABA-!”

“I never asked for that!” Drake argued, voice cracking a little. “You never even asked me if that was what I wanted, if I thought it was helping!”

“Of _ course _ we didn’t, you were _ six! _If we let you have your way, you’d have been eating peanut butter and jelly for dinner every night!”

“Those aren’t the same thing!”

“Oh, what do you know? You’re not a parent! And now that you’ve done _ this _ to yourself,” she said, gesturing up and down at him, “I’m sure you never will be! You’re lucky your brother already gave us a grandbaby, or you would have broken your poor mother’s heart even more!”

Drake flinched, folding his arms across his chest and hunching his shoulders as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible.

“I... I’m sorry...” he said in a small, barely audible voice.

And, well, _ that _was what broke Launchpad. He narrowed his eyes, standing up and putting a hand on Drake’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Mallard, I think that you should probably leave-!”

“I’m sorry, are you the owner of this manor?”

Launchpad blinked, then cleared his throat.

“Uh... well, no, but-!”

“He may not be, but _ I _am,” Mr. McDuck started as he walked over to Collette. “And I agree- I think you should be gettin’ home.”

“Oh, come on now, Scrooge, you can’t possibly fault me here! After all, you know what it’s like- you raised your niece and nephew after their parents passed, didn’t you?”

“Aye, I did. And I know that I wasn’t a perfect parent- far from it- but at least I know that I was never half as cruel to my kin as you’ve been to yours.” Mr. McDuck narrowed his eyes and pointed his cane at her face. “Mrs. Mallard, I suggest you collect your husband and leave my property before I call security. And tell him that I’ll be rethinkin’ my donation to his reelection campaign.”

_ “WHAT?!” _Someone in the crowd shouted. After a bit of shoving and complaining, it turned out to be Gadwall, who looked more than a little shell-shocked. “M-Mr. McDuck, you, you can’t mean that!”

“Oh, but I _ can. _Your wife has shown awfully poor judgement here tonight, senator, and considerin’ you seem to have just stood and watched her say horrible things to your own son, it’s clear that you’re perfectly okay with that.”

“But- but- Mr. McDuck, _ please, _you don’t know how she gets! There’s just- just no stopping her once she gets on a tangent, heh!”

“What?! Oh, so _ I’m _the bad guy here?”

_ “Will you shut up?!” _Gadwall half-whispered. 

“No! No, I will not, and _ you’re _ one to talk! You should hear how he talks about Drakey when the cameras are off, some of the _ language _he uses is-!”

“Enough!” McDuck snapped, pounding his cane on the floor. “I won’t hear another word of your excuses! Get off my property this _ instant, _ and I swear, the next person to interrupt me is a _ dead man.” _

As if on cue, all the lights in the manor went out, and a gong seemed to sound out of nowhere. When the lights went back on at the second gong strike, there was a swirling vortex of black mist and lightning in the middle of the entrance hall, and after another gong strike a cackling duck that looked strangely like Mr. McDuck with fangs appeared in the middle of it.

“At last! Scrooge McDuck, I’ve found you at last! Now I, Drake Von Vladstone, shall finally have my revenge on you, ah ah ah!”

“... Yeah, shoulda seen that one comin’,” Mr. McDuck muttered.

Predictably, people started screaming, even more when hoards of bats appeared out of nowhere. 

“Uh-oh. Drake, we should probably- Drake?” Launchpad looked around the area, trying to figure out where his friend had gone. “Drake! Where are you-?!”

A sudden puff of purple smoke came down from the rafters.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night. I am the scourge that pecks at your nightmares. I... am _ Darkwing Duck!” _

“... Okay, that works too,” Launchpad murmured as he made his way down the steps. “Uh, Senator and Mrs. Mallard, we should really get-!”

“Where’s my son?!” Collette demanded. “I’m not going anywhere without him, that ungrateful little _ snot _and I still have-!”

Launchpad bit back the urge to tell her off, instead just picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder.

“Wh- hey! Put me down, you big-!”

“Senator, are you gonna walk, or would you like to join your wife?”

“I... think I’ll walk, thank you.”

Launchpad nodded, then looked back over his other shoulder at where Drake had leapt down from the rafters and onto the bannister at the top of the stairs. 

“Good luck, DW!” He called, flashing him a thumbs up. Drake returned the gesture, then surfed down the stairs and used the momentum to kick the vampire duck right in the face. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

With that, Launchpad started running for the panic room, Collette still complaining all the while.

* * *

Drake huffed as he ran after the vampire duck, turning a corner a little too fast and nearly losing his balance.

“Stupid undead creep... in what mythology do vampires have the ability to _ teleport?!” _

Just as he caught his breath, he heard a scream, followed by the sound of way too many bat wings flapping. He cursed under his breath, following the sound until he came upon a swarm of them menacing a young duck in a blue shirt that he was pretty sure was named Dewey.

“Sorry to break up your party here, but you’re all starting to drive me a little _ batty!” _He quipped as he threw his hat at the swarm, scattering them just long enough for Drake to run and grab Dewey. “Hold your breath, kid!”

“What? Why should I-?”

“Just do it!”

“Okay, okay!” Dewey took a deep breath, puffing up his cheeks. Drake did the same, then used his free hand to grab his gas gun and fire off a round of knock-out gas. A puff, and then the bats all went down at once, fading into non-existence as they hit the ground. 

Drake exhaled once the gas dissipated, blowing the little bit of smoke coming out of the gun away.

“Thanks for saving me, Mr. Mallard!”

“Don’t mention it, kid-! Uh, I mean,” Drake cleared his throat as he put Dewey down, puffing out his chest and posing heroically. “Wh-Whatever do you mean, young citizen? I am the shadowy protector known as Darkwing Duck!”

Dewey arched an eyebrow.

“Dude, I was at the movie set when that big fight with the old Darkwing happened. I heard you and Launchpad talking about it. Plus, I’m pretty sure that’s a prop gun you took from the set. It has a McDuck Studios logo on it.”

Drake blinked, then deflated.

“Aw, crud. Okay, kid- uh, it’s Dewey, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, Dewey, look, we- we can talk this over later, where’s your family?”

“I don’t know! We were watching reruns of Ottoman Empire in the den-!”

“That reality show about building ottomans? Really?”

“Yeah, I know, it was Louie’s turn to pick, but we were doing that when this _ huge _swarm of bats bust in through the doors, and then I got separated from everyone else, and now I don’t know-!”

There was a sudden cacophony of different people screaming from down the hall, and Dewey paused.

“Okay, so that’s Mom, Huey, Louie, Webby, Uncle Scrooge, and...” A quacky screech came from the same direction. “Yup, that’s Uncle Donald! They’re that way!”

“Great! Come on!”

They started running down the hall, only for Dewey to abruptly stop with a scared look on his face.

“Wait! Where’s Launchpad?!”

“He’s fine, I saw him escorting my parents to safety!”

“Wha- why are your parents here?”

“Eh, long story, point is that Launchpad is fine, now let’s _ go!” _

When they finally got to the source of the screaming, which turned out to be the dining room, Drake barely had time to react before a pair of screaming ducklings were thrown at him from a swirling vortex on the table. He yelped as they made contact, groaning when his head hit the floor. 

“Huey! Louie! You guys are okay!”

“Dewey! You’re alive!” The red one replied.

“We thought you got eaten alive by bats,” the green one added.

“Gee, you seem real broken up about it,” Dewey muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, how did you even get away from them?”

“That would be me,” Drake piped up, giving the boys a look. “Now would you please get off of me?!”

“Whoops! Sorry, sir!” The red one apologized as he got off of him. The green one snorted.

“What’re you supposed to be, some kind of Duck Avenger knockoff?”

“Wh- I’m Darkwing Duck!” Drake said emphatically as he got up.

The two boys gave him blank looks.

“The... the terror that flaps in the night?”

Still blank.

“... seriously? I helped stop the alien invasion less than a month ago!”

“Our mom took us to find a place to hide for most of that,” the red one replied.

“I got this, DW. Remember that show that Launchpad really likes?” Dewey asked.

Something seemed to click in both boys’ brains then.

“Ohhhh... wait, didn’t Uncle Scrooge fund a failed movie adaptation of that property?”

“It’s- it’s a long story, okay?” Drake sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes before turning to the green one. “Okay. Huey-!”

“Actually, _ I’m _Huey,” the red one interrupted. Drake bit back a groan before turning to him.

“Fine, then, _ Huey,” _he started before turning to the green one, “and you must be Louie, right?”

“Yup.”

“Fantastic. Dewey here mentioned four other people. Where are they?”

“Well, Uncle Donald’s stuck in the ceiling,” Huey started, pointing up at where there was indeed a pair of duck legs kicking angrily, “Mom’s up in the rafters trying to get him down,” he pointed at the rafters, where a female duck in a pilot’s outfit was trying to grab at one of the legs, “Uncle Scrooge told us to try and cut off the vampire’s ability to teleport by messing with the vortex while he gets something from his office, and- wait, wasn’t Webby in the vortex with us?”

As if on cue, the vortex spit out another duckling, who yet again landed right on top of Drake.

“Hi! I’m Webby!”

“Ugh... nice to meet you, Webby. Can you please get off me?”

“Whoops! Sorry, mister!” Webby was at least courteous enough to help him to his feet. He sighed, dusting himself off and adjusting his hat. 

“Okay. Kids. We need a plan. Any of you particularly good with coming up with those on the fly?”

“Louie,” Huey, Dewey, and Webby stated in unison, pointing at Louie, who smirked.

“I think I’ve found a few angles to exploit. Huey, you wouldn’t happen to have your guidebook on hand, would ya?”

Huey scoffed, taking out a book from under his hat.

“Please, what do you take me for?”

“Oh, is that the Junior Woodchuck handbook? They must’ve changed from when I was a kid.”

Huey blinked before his bill fell open, eyes going wide. 

“Wait, _ you _were a Junior Woodchuck?!”

Drake puffed out his chest.

“You’re looking at a Ten-Star General, kid.”

Huey gasped.

“Are you serious?! Only thirteen percent of all Junior Woodchucks have _ ever _ made it to that rank! You have to tell me _ everything-!” _

“Hey, uh, Huey? Remember the vampiric vortex on the dining room table, and the Mom in the rafters, and the Uncle Donald in the ceiling?”

Huey blinked, then looked sheepish.

“Oh, heh, right. Sorry, got- got a little carried away. Er, maybe you can tell me later?”

Drake chuckled and nodded.

“Count on it, kiddo.”

Huey beamed, and Louie cleared his throat.

“Alright, now that Huey’s nerd business is out of the way, Darkwing, you wouldn’t happen to have a grappling hook in that geeky get-up of yours, would you?”

“I have one as part of my gas gun,” he answered, choosing to ignore the comment about his costume being geeky, “but I haven’t used it yet.”

“You don’t have to do anything fancy,” Louie started, pointing at the rafters. “Just get yourself up there and help our mom get Uncle Donald out of the ceiling, and then help them get down from there. We’ll use Huey’s handbook to see if we can make makeshift weapons to get the vampire’s attention. After that, we... do whatever Mom and Uncle Donald tell us.”

“Louie!” The other kids shouted in unison, sounding exasperated.

“What? I’m eleven, I don’t know how to defeat a vampire!” Louie protested, throwing his hands in the air. 

Drake sighed, taking a step forward and aiming at the rafters. 

“Okay, well, it’s all we’ve got right now. Stand back, kids!”

Drake hesitated for a second, then took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The cable shot right out of it, pulling him up towards the rafter it latched onto. Unfortunately, it stopped a good distance from the actual rafter, leaving him hanging from the ceiling.

“Oh, _ come on!” _ He shouted as he clung to the gun as best he could. He made the mistake of glancing down, which made him realize he was right over the swirling vortex of unknown horror. He swallowed hard, then grit his teeth and took a deep breath as he started swinging back and forth. “Come on, come on... man, this was a lot easier when there was a chandelier involveeed _ aiiiieeeeee!” _

A gust of wind suddenly came up from the vortex just as he was swinging forward, propelling him up so fast that he ended up going around the beam until he was basically tied to the beam with the leftover cable.

“Ugh... okay, not my best work...”

He heard a chuckle, and when he opened his eyes a pair of feet- one regular, one that appeared to be made out of metal- were in front of him.

“Well, nowhere to go but up, right? I mean, not literally, you’re in the rafters, but- you get what I mean.” The duck in front of him kneeled down, revealing herself to be Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s mother. “Need some help, Darkwing?”

Drake blinked, then grinned.

_ “Finally! _Geez, I was starting to wonder if anyone was ever going to recognize me! I bet you read about me in the news, right?”

She shrugged as she got to work untangling him. 

“Actually, I watched the show as a kid. I’m Della, by the way.”

Drake groaned as he got up.

“Great, well, thanks anyway, Della. Your brother still in the ceiling?”

Della gestured with her thumb over her shoulder, where the pair of duck legs from before were indeed still kicking. 

“Yup. Wanna help me get him down?”

“Might as well.”

It was a rather perilous challenge to balance Della on his shoulders while also avoiding getting kicked in the face by Donald, but somehow they managed it without any of them falling to their deaths. 

“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure that this thing only supports the weight of two fully grown ducks max,” Drake started once they’d gotten his grappling gun untangled. “So, uh, which one of you wants to go first?”

“I’m good,” Donald replied before walking over to the end of the rafter, stopping when he was standing opposite a corner of the room. 

“Wha- what do you mean, you’re good? How else are you going to get doooown _ what the-?!” _

Drake heard the four kids scream as Donald jumped from the rafter, only for them to gasp when he started jumping from wall to wall on the corner, safely landing with a flip seconds later.

“... What.”

Della snorted.

“Show-off. Come on, Darkwing, let’s get down there before they mob Donald with questions.”

They were a little late for that, as the kids had already surrounded Donald by the time they landed.

“Uncle Donald, that was _ so cool!” _

“It was like something out of a superhero movie! Where did you learn to do that?!”

_ “Why _do you know how to do that?!”

“Uh...”

“Yeah, Donald,” Della started, a sly smile on her face, “why _ do _you know how to do superhero-level stunts, hm?”

Donald shot her a look, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat, tugging at his collar nervously.

“Uh... well, kids, the truth is that I _ oh look the vampire’s back!” _

“Wha- you can’t just-! Oh crud he really _ is _ back!”

There was a clap of thunder outside the manor as Von Vladstone reappeared, despite it being clear as day outside. 

_ “WHERE IS HE?!” _He demanded as black mist surrounded him. Before any of them could move, the black mist turned into an arm that grabbed them and pulled him close to his face. “Where. Is. Scrooge. McDuck?!”

“Did you check his office?” Louie asked casually.

“Wh- of course I did, I’m not a _ fool!” _

“Well then we don’t know either!” Huey answered.

“Sorry about that!” Dewey finished.

Von Vladstone growled, tightening his grip on them.

“I swear, if you don’t tell me where he is _ right now-!” _

Von Vladstone was cut off when a pogo stick made contact with his head, making him cry out in pain and drop all of them on the floor.

“Oi, Dracula! You wouldn’t happen to be lookin’ for me now, would ya?”

“Uncle Scrooge!” Everyone but Drake cried out happily.

“Wait, why is Uncle Scrooge on a pogo stick?” Dewey asked.

“And why does he have a giant water gun?” Huey added.

“Guys, we’ve lived here like, a year, I think it’s time to stop questioning anything Uncle Scrooge does,” Louie replied.

Von Vladstone cackled, disappearing into mist and appearing right in front of McDuck’s face, grabbing him by the front of his coat and making his pogo stick drop to the floor.

“Oh, now, come _ on, _ Scrooge! You didn’t _ seriously _think that the pogo stick trick was going to work twice, did you?”

To Drake’s surprise, McDuck actually chuckled, pointing his water gun right at Von Vladstone’s face.

“Nah, you’re not _ that _ stupid. But you _ are _still a vampire, and given all my years of adventurin’, I’ve learned a few tricks to get rid of you bloodsuckin’ pests.”

Von Vladstone went pale, eyes going wide as McDuck sprayed him. He screeched and dropped him, only to grunt when McDuck kicked him into the wall. 

“What... what’s in that?!”

“Oh, it’s just a wee little compound commonly referred to as _ holy water.” _

“You- you _ wouldn’t.” _

“Oh, but I _ would. _Della, Donald, eh... Darkwing, was it?”

“Er, yes, sir.”

“Great, great. I suggest you three cover the wee ones’ eyes.” Scrooge cocked the water gun. “This is not gonna be pretty.”

The three adults quickly covered the kids’ eyes.

“S-Scrooge, now, come on, we- we can work this out-!”

“Yeah, see, no, we really can’t. You went and threatened my family. _ Nobody _threatens my family. So long, sucker!” 

With that, McDuck pulled the trigger, and Drake cringed and closed his eyes as Von Vladstone let out an ear splitting scream, the scent of sulfur and burnt rubber filling the air and lingering long after the screeching stopped. When Drake opened his eyes again, there was nothing but a pile of bones and some scorch marks on the wall. McDuck whistled appreciatively, strolling over to the bones and picking up the skull.

“So! Who wants to drive a stake through this so he doesn’t come back?”

“Me!” All four kids cheered simultaneously.

“Absolutely not!” Donald and Della replied at the same time.

Drake chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. 

“Well, this has been... interesting, but it appears my work is done here.” He took a step back. “Soooo... I’ll just be going, then-!”

“Wait!” Huey cried, grabbing onto his cape. “What about the Junior Woodchucks? You said you’d tell me how you got to be a Ten-Star General!”

“Oh, uh... it’s kind of late...” Drake tried to look away from those big, pleading eyes of his. “Er... oh! You know what, Launchpad has my number! Why don’t you ask him to give me a call sometime, and I’ll tell you all about it then!”

Huey narrowed his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Of course! A Junior Woodchuck never breaks their promises!”

Huey smiled, releasing his cape.

“Okay, but you can’t leave _ any _ details out! I expect the _ full _story!”

Drake grinned, internally trying to figure out if he could tell a version of the full story without revealing too much detail about his past.

“You got it, kid.” With that, he dropped a smokebomb, dashing off into the hall.

“... wait, why would _ Launchpad _have a superhero’s number?”

* * *

Drake sighed as he walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his bow-tie and slicking back his hair again. 

“Okay. Gotta make it look convincing. Remember- you’re an actor. You can do this.”

He took a deep breath, then took on a panicked expression, forcing himself to huff and puff as he ran back into the entrance hall.

“Launchpad?! Launchpad, where are you?!”

This, of course, was a silly question- Launchpad was big enough to see over most crowds, and this was no exception. Still, Launchpad heard him, perking up and waving at him.

“Drake! We’re over here!”

Drake grinned with genuine relief, starting a jog towards him before noticing too late that his own mother was barrelling toward him.

“Uh-oh. Er, Mom, I-! Oof!”

His mother all but crushed him in a hug, actually lifting him off the floor slightly.

“Oh, thank _ goodness _my baby boy is safe! Are you hurt? Any bruises? Broken bones?”

“Um, no, Mom, I’m- I’m fine.”

“Good.” She set him down, her eyes going stony as her fingers dug into his arms. “Because we have _ quite _a bit to talk about once we get home.”

Drake gulped, willing himself not to shake before catching a glimpse of the worried look on Launchpad’s face. He blinked, then cast a steely gaze on his mother.

“... No.”

She blinked, bill parting in shock.

“N... No? What, what do you mean, _ no?” _

“I _ mean,” _ Drake started as he pushed his mother away, “no, I’m not going to listen to you rant and rave about how much of a _ burden _I am on you. I am sick and tired of constantly being told that I’m not good enough, that nothing I ever do will ever be good enough, be enough to repay you for everything you’ve done for me!”

“Drake Winston Mallard-!”

“In fact, I shouldn’t _ have _ to repay you for- for anything! You know why? Because you are my _ mother!” _ Drake shouted, punctuating his words with a poke to the chest. “You _ chose _ to have me, and the fact that I didn’t turn out to be a perfect little clone of _ you _ the way that Muscovy turned out to be a perfect clone of Dad doesn’t change that! I am _ not _ you, I am my own person, and I deserve _ better _than to be perpetually treated as your cross to bear!”

His mother was shaking with rage, but just as she opened her beak to scream at him his father came up behind her, clapping her on the shoulder.

“Ah-hah, Collette, darling, remember what the doctor said about your blood pressure.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Drake, I realize that it’s been a very... eventful night for all of us, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on your mother-!”

“Oh, trust me, _ she’s _ not the _ only _ person I have something to say to.”

His father blinked.

“Wh- excuse me?”

“You heard me. You have stood by and watched her treat me like- like _ garbage _ for _ twenty-eight years. _ You let her take me to therapists that _ hurt _ me, and when I told you about it you did _ nothing. _ In fact, up until a few years ago you barely noticed I _ existed, _and you only care because you think you can use me as a shield from criticism when you vote for things that harm people like me! I am sick and tired of you using me for good publicity, and I’m even more sick and tired of you using me to justify the harm you do!”

“Champ, come on, not in front of-!”

“In front of who, the press? Let them take all the pictures they want!” He turned towards the small press pool that had formed in the entrance hall. “In fact, here’s a quote for all of you, free to use! Senator Gadwall Mallard is a hypocrite, a terrible father, and an enabler for his wife’s abusive behavior!” 

He turned back to his parents, heartbeat racing in his ears.

“Because that’s what it is, _ Mother. _ I refuse to pretend it’s okay, because it is _ not. _ It never has been. All I’m asking is that you stop acting like you’re stuck with me, and start acting like I’m your _ son.” _

His parents exchanged a glance, their faces perfectly neutral and blank when they turned back to him. 

“Well. You’ve made yourself quite clear, Drake,” His mother started.

“Yes. Clearly, something needs to change,” His father agreed.

Drake blinked, a weight disappearing from his chest.

“R... Really?”

“Yes.” His father looked him right in the eyes. “You’re no son of mine.”

Suddenly that weight came crashing right back down, sending his heart plummeting right into his stomach.

“Wh... what?”

“You heard me. No son of mine would ever be so _ disobedient. _ You want to be your own person? Fine. But you can do it _ without _our help.”

“I... but... you...”

Drake couldn’t breathe. The lights were- had they been so bright this whole time? 

“I’m sure you can figure out how to arrange for someone to come and get your things, Drake. After all, you’re such a _ grown-up _ now.” His mother sniffed, angling her beak into the air. “Gadwall, let’s head home. We have a new _ spare room _ to decide what to do with.”

“But, but, but-! Mom, Dad, _ wait! _”

“Goodbye, Drake.” His father stated with an air of finality as he and Drake’s mother disappeared into the crowd, leaving Drake staring helplessly at the flashing lights.

What had he done?

He just... he just wanted them to treat him like they treated Muscovy- to treat him like a _ person. _

How had it all gone so wrong?

“Drake?” He heard Launchpad ask softly. “Drake, are you okay?”

He looked up at him, and it was only then that he realized his eyes had blurred with tears.

“I... I don’t... what did I do wrong?”

He heard Launchpad inhale sharply, but before he could say anything, there was a blinding flash of light.

“Mr. Mallard! Mr. Mallard, how do you think your parents’ disowning you will affect your brother’s campaign?”

“Huh? Muscovy? I-I’m not sure...”

“Do you plan to release a book about your parents’ treatment of you?”

“A-A book? I don’t-!”

“Mr. Mallard, will you lend any credence to the rumors of your father having private dealings with lobbyists for Glomgold Industries?”

Drake swallowed, head pounding as the sound of all the voices and the camera shutters going off bounced around in his skull. He started shaking, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I-I... please stop, I don’t...”

“Alright, that’s enough, everyone!” Launchpad called out, sounding far away even though Drake could still feel his hand on his shoulder. “Party’s over, please leave the premises!”

“Mr. Mallard! Mr. Mallard!”

Drake whimpered as Launchpad started steering him towards the stairs, focusing what little energy he had left on putting one foot in front of the other. He could still hear the sound of the reporters shouting after him, but they were quickly silenced by a somewhat ethereal British voice.

“Okay, buddy, that’s it, we’re almost there. There’s a guest room on the second floor, okay? Just need to make it there.”

If Drake hadn’t been two seconds from a total shutdown, he would have thanked Launchpad for keeping his voice so low and soft. Before Drake knew it, they were in a bedroom that Drake didn’t quite recognize, but he didn’t have time to process that as his knees gave out the second Launchpad closed the door to the room behind him.

“Whoa! Okay, uh, hold on...” Drake was dimly aware that he was being lifted off the ground, the warmth from what he assumed was Launchpad’s chest somehow reducing the dull ache in his head. “Alright, DW, I’m gonna put you down on the bed, okay? And- and you can just rest here for now. I’ll even turn off the lights for you oof!”

Drake pulled Launchpad onto the bed with him, burrowing into his chest and holding on tight.

_ Don’t leave me, _ he wanted to say. _ Please don’t leave me, not you too, please, please stay with me. _

If only he could make his voice work right then.

Thankfully, Launchpad seemed to get the message, silently wrapping his arms around Drake and rubbing his back gently.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay, I’ll stay here. I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

Somehow, that gentleness was what finally broke Drake- he let out a pained sob, clutching at Launchpad’s suit jacket and shaking in his arms. Launchpad said nothing, didn’t even hush him, just let him cry and fall apart for a little while while they laid on a soft bed together. 

Eventually, the world came back to him, the numb feeling drifting away and leaving him exhausted as always. Shame bloomed in his chest unbidden, and he swallowed the lump in his throat as he pushed Launchpad away.

“I... I-I’m sorry-!”

“No.”

Drake blinked, looking up at an uncharacteristically serious-looking Launchpad.

“N... No?”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Drake. Not for shutting down, not for crying, and definitely not for how your parents treated you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But... but I-!”

“Uh-uh, no buts. They’re the ones who hurt you, Drake, just like you said. You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Launchpad smiled at him gently. “And for the record? I think you’re too good for them anyway.”

Drake blinked, face heating up as he took in Launchpad’s words. His heartbeat was so fast that he was sure Launchpad could hear it, and Launchpad’s hand was still on his back, and, and-!

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Just like that, the world seemed to go perfectly still, from the wind in the trees outside to the water in the pipes running through the manor to the look on Launchpad’s face.

Which was when Drake realized that he had said that out loud.

“... what?” Launchpad asked, voice soft and disbelieving. 

Drake turned bright red, opening his mouth to try and stammer out an explanation before snapping it shut and sitting up in bed.

“I, I, um, I...” He groaned, holding his head in his hands as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I-I’m _ so _sorry, I shouldn’t’ve- I shouldn’t’ve said that...”

Launchpad didn’t answer right away, but he heard (and felt, Launchpad was a big guy after all) him moving around on the bed behind him. He held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of the door slamming behind Launchpad, for the definitive loss of the best and pretty much _ only _friend he’d ever had-!

“Drake?” Launchpad asked in a quiet voice, putting his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Did... did you mean that? Do you... are you really falling in love with me?”

Drake bit his bill, eyes burning with a new wave of unshed tears.

“B... Because, um, well... if- if you are, then... um, me too.”

Drake blinked, inhaling sharply through his nostrils before turning around to see a red-faced Launchpad smiling at him. 

“I... you... you... really?”

Launchpad chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, yeah. How could I _ not _ fall for you? You’re handsome, brave, strong, you’ve got a killer taste in TV shows- season three of Darkwing Duck notwithstanding, of course- you’re... well, you get me. Not a lot of people really get me, you know. Not a lot of people even try.”

“I... but, but I don’t have any prospects! I don’t have a job, I’m probably homeless now, and- and even before that, I still lived with my parents at twenty-eight!”

“Actually, it’s pretty common in a lot of cultures for multiple generations to live in the same house,” Launchpad said as if he were saying that the sky was blue. “Plus, Della and Donald still live with their guardian, and they’re older than both of us.”

“That’s- well, okay, but _ still! _ I’m not... I’m not exactly a _ prize, _Launchpad.”

Launchpad snorted.

“DW, you’ve seen my house. I’m not exactly swimming in gold coins either, y’know.” He smiled, moving to cup Drake’s cheek with his palm. “Besides, I don’t want a prize. I want someone who never gives up, who shares my interests, who I can make laugh til he snorts with my Mr. McDuck impression.”

Despite himself, Drake chuckled, leaning into Launchpad’s touch.

“I like _ you, _ Drake,” he said quietly, pressing his forehead against Drake’s. “That’s all there is to it. So, if you really want to try this, then I have one question for you.”

“... which is?”

Launchpad grinned at him.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Drake blinked, then let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh.

“Are you kidding? After all this, I’d be more upset if you _ didn’t.” _

Launchpad snickered, then tilted Drake’s chin upward, pressing his bill against Drake’s so gently he might as well not have been kissing him at all. 

Which, while very sweet, was not what Drake wanted right now. He reached up, putting his hands on either side of his face and pulling him closer so he could deepen the kiss. Launchpad made a surprised sound, but quickly melted into him, putting his hands on Drake’s hips and lifting him into his lap. 

“I, um. I like you too,” Drake whispered against Launchpad’s bill. “R-Romantically, I mean.”

Launchpad laughed, the sound making his heart flutter with joy. He kissed Drake again, and Drake sighed, wrapping his arms around Launchpad’s neck.

Which was when a knock came at the door.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mallard? Are you still in here-?” Mrs. Beakley paused, blinking when she saw the position he and Launchpad were in. “Er... am I interrupting something?”

“No!” They both yelled, all but darting apart with their faces both bright red.

“Uh... huh. Well, Mr. Mallard, Mr. McDuck wished for me to tell you that you may stay in the manor for as long as you need.” She turned her gaze to Launchpad, arching an eyebrow. “He didn’t mention you, Launchpad, but I’m certain he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”

Launchpad chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Drake turned away, clearing his throat.

“W-Well, that’s- that’s very kind of him, although, er, may I ask why?”

Mrs. Beakley smiled gently. 

“If I know my employer, I’d wager that it has to do with the behavior of your parents this evening. He doesn’t tend to take kindly to the... _ prejudices _they showed tonight.”

Drake blinked, then shrugged.

“Well, I’ll take spite-fueled lodgings over nothing at all. I guess that means I’m not really homeless... though I still don’t have a job... or money to hire someone to get my stuff, since I doubt they’ll just let me take it from the house...” He sighed, and Launchpad patted him on the back gently. “So I’m still kinda screwed, I guess...”

“Actually, Mr. Mallard, I may be able to help you with that.”

Drake blinked, looking up at her and arching an eyebrow.

“Er, no offense, Mrs. Beakley, but I’m not really housekeeper material...”

Mrs. Beakley shook her head, instead walking over to the bed and pulling out a small card.

“No, not that kind of help. Rather, I happen to know a group of people who could definitely use a man with your particular skill set.”

Drake blinked as he took the card.

“My... my skill set?”

Mrs. Beakley smiled at him, turning around and heading for the door.

“Just think it over, alright?” 

With that, she left the room, leaving Drake more confused than ever.

“What does the card say?” Launchpad asked. Drake flipped it over, furrowing his brow.

“It says ‘shush.’” Drake thought it over, then felt his face go hot. “Hey! I’m not _ that _loud!”

“Uh, I think it’s an acronym, actually. See the little dots between the letters?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah... S.H.U.S.H, huh? Wonder what tortured phrase they came up with to get _ that _acronym.”

“You gonna call them?” Launchpad asked, nuzzling the top of Drake’s head with his beak. 

“Mm... well, it’s not like I have any _ other _job prospects at the moment.” Drake grinned, leaning over to put the card on the nightstand before kissing Launchpad again. “But for now, I think I’ve got something a little more fun to attend to...”

Launchpad laughed, pulling Drake back into bed and getting on top of him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He murmured before moving to kiss Drake’s neck. Drake sighed, threading his fingers into Launchpad’s hair.

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself, big guy.”

Launchpad beamed at him, and Drake smiled back at him before pulling him back into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This document is like twenty-five pages long and took me like six hours to write. 
> 
> I genuinely didn't think I had that level of productivity in me anymore. Thanks, DuckTales!
> 
> Anyway, this is part adventure, part romance, part me wanting to nail down a headcanon for DT17!Drake's home life, which I decided was... not good. Not good at all. I'm sorry I gave you an Autism Mom, Drake. 
> 
> I also decided to put in some references to other Duckverse properties in this, such as New Quackmore (from Legend of the Three Caballeros), Count Dracula Duck (from the NES game), and of course, the Duck Avenger. 
> 
> Also, points to anyone who recognizes the Good Omens reference.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and have a wonderful day!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
